The Lord is my strength and my song.Psalm 118:14a

Thank you so much for taking the time and energy to bring your daughters to AWANAs, our Wednesday night church program. What a blessing that you share your precious girls with us!

Your three year old Brynn is making a big adjustment to let go of you for the evening, although she likes having her sister there for support. I volunteer with Cubbies, the program for three to five year olds that both of your daughters participate in. I have three year olds in my small group, so I spend most of the evening with Brynn.

Brynn gets my attention with a gentle tap on my arm that she repeats. Tap. Tap. Tap. She then announces, “I miss my Mommy.” Wisps of white blond hair surround her cherubic face as she puckers her lip, trying not to cry.

“Of course you do.” I always try to validate her feelings before I offer my hand and present the next activity. “Your mommy will be back later, but first, let’s go to our big group time and sing.” Brynn likes to hold my hand as we walk through the hallways. She quickly distracts from her sadness and readily engages in the next activity.

“Yes, Brynn, your mommy will be here later.” I point out Brynn’s big sister, who is on her way to the classroom, and urge, “Let’s go hear our Bible story!”

Last month, Brynn was the first to raise her hand for a question, eagerly proclaiming, “Christmas is when Jesus was born!” Her smile was huge, her confidence unshakable, her assurance contagious. May God keep her faith deeply rooted and ever-developing.

Our group of three year olds learns a weekly Bible verse, usually four to ten words long, which we practice as a group. Brynn loves to learn the verse, and is usually one of the first girls to offer to recite the verse alone from memory with her bold, “I want to say it by myself!”

As we transition between activities, I often get the familiar tap, tap, tap followed by Brynn’s “I miss my Mommy!”

My responses are similar. “Yes , you will see her soon, but let’s go to the gym . . .watch the Cubbie Bear puppet show . . . have our music time . . . first.”

Before Christmas, I had the honor of holding Brynn’s purple butterfly headband for gym time. I soon put the headband down, along with my reading glasses, so that I could join in the fun. The group of three to five year olds (and a few of us older ones acting that age) laughed, walked hesitantly, and even ran as we balanced a jingle bell on our head across the gym. As always, when I looked over at Brynn in the middle of the group, she was smiling and having fun.

In our group time afterwards, when Miss Becky asked the name of the baby who was born at Christmas, Brynn was the first to enthusiastically call out “Jesus.” Oh Lord, may Brynn always be first to call on Jesus’ name and may that be her strength and hope in life. God, please build in her a great faith that touches others with Jesus’ love.

Toward the end of that night, I felt the usual tap, tap, tap. Before I said anything, Brynn looked up at me with her sweet face and triumphantly exclaimed “I don’t miss my Mommy!” Brynn’s big girl moment: she could relax and enjoy the evening, convinced that you would be there for her afterwards.

Reflecting on Brynn’s lesson later, I thought of my grief journey after my mother died two years ago. I would often say out loud, “I miss my Mom!” and then cry in mournful remembrance. Recently, my pain and sadness in remembering my mother have transitioned to nostalgia and love. Brynn’s big girl moment was a meaningful illustration for me. In Brynn’s adjustment to living life, having fun, and being reassured that her mother will be there at the end, I found an illuminating example of how to cope with my own sadness.

Using Brynn’s big girl words of confident hope, I prayed similar words to God: I don’t miss my Mom! I know that I will see her again later – in heaven.

Brynn’s Mom, thank you so much for the gift of letting your sweet daughter teach me a lesson about eternal life and God’s reassurance.

Ten years ago today, I did CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) on you after you slumped over. I watched paramedics work on you, move you out of the house on a gurney, and take you to the hospital. The medical staff was unable to revive you after trying everything, and you were pronounced dead on January 7, 2005. Both of our lives split off in different directions after your sudden heart attack – yours celestial, mine earthly – in a separation neither of us chose.

The ten year sadiversary.

Never thought I would make it one week without you, let alone one decade. Now it seems like multiple decades, at least a lifetime ago. You were my husband, my parenting partner, the love of my life.

Our mighty God pulled me up out of the mire of grief and pain, and set me on the rock – just like Psalm 40:1-3 describes. God helped me rely on THE rock – the stable rock of His Word, His character – the rock of who He is.

Like Psalm 40:3 says, “He put a new song in my mouth.” Yes, I am singing and joyful again, although widowhood was a painful adjustment. It’s a long story — two books actually. I have no idea if God let you see the process; I just hope that you missed the awful part of our grief and mourning. The three of us love you so much; it took a long time and lots of help to adjust to losing you so suddenly.

Single, or only parenting as widowed people call it, was tough. I did my best, but it was not a smooth journey. (Hopefully, God did not show you all of that, either.) God helped me every step of the way; His comfort and guidance brought me back to living life again.

Do you know that I remarried seven years after you died? Who would think of having two husbands in one lifetime?! Very different, but I am grateful to God for the blessing of new love. You were the love of the first half of my life; Craig is the love of the second half of my life. Sometimes I am surprised that my life is so similar: loving my husband (OK, it’s a different husband, but it’s what I do) and family, nurturing my kids, and volunteering in my church and community. I start my day in God’s Word and maintain similar priorities as before you died.

Except for the parenting stuff, that is. Our kids (seems strange to call them “our” kids after the painful adjustment to “my” kids) do their own homework, driving, and activities now. You would be so proud of them – but you wouldn’t recognize them as teenagers! They have changed so much and are well on their way to becoming incredible, unique adults. Craig is God’s gift to help me deal with teenagers; he inspires me to be a much better parent than I was alone. I have adjusted to, and really appreciate, my new parenting partner.

Please do me a favor and thank Jesus personally for His death on the cross. What a gift that is to all of us! (I suppose that you never take that for granted up there.) Also, please thank God for the comfort and healing He gave me. What a turnaround God led me through after that horrible night ten years ago. . .

The MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group met upstairs at the church, while you and the other “Moppettes,” or little ones, were entertained downstairs. As a mentor mom, I stayed upstairs to lead a discussion group. Doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was getting up two hours before an event, racing around the house to get kids ready (with myself as an afterthought), and then schlepping two strong-willed children and lots of assorted stuff to an event. Now those teenagers are busy in school all day, and my volunteering and Bible study activities don’t require heavy lifting and kid-corralling.

But I still remember my kid-corralling skills, and that’s why your game was so much fun. In stealth-like style, you squeezed your three year old self out the front door amid the mom brigade of strollers, toddlers, diaper bags, and other kid paraphernalia. As I stood outside talking with the other, also quite relaxed, mentor mom, I saw the concerned face of your mom Rose, as she held the door open and called your name. Rose had already worked a full morning: she planned, organized, set up, presented, and then cleaned up for her many responsibilities with the food, hospitality, and decorations.

That look in her eyes told me everything; likely she had turned to quickly finish something and then looked back only to find that you, her precious Rebecca, were gone. Not really gone, just out of reach and off to the races.

Although relieved to find you, your mother’s attempts to call you back were completely ignored. By this time I was running off to chase you, calling over my shoulder to ask your mom if I could get you.

“I’m sending my friend Miss Tina to get you,” I heard Rose call out as I chased Runaway Rebecca, a little vision in pink speeding along the concrete.

Leaning down toward you as I finally caught up with you, Rebecca, I heard the most precious little laughter. What a sweet, albeit impish, giggle you have! I started laughing with you, determined to make the trip back to your mom just as much fun. With a couple of silly comments and a hand-in-hand u-turn, we were soon racing back to your mom together. What a fun race that was! I still smile when I think of your adorable giggle and the wild Rebecca chase I got sent on.

Oh, how I know the responsibility, fear, and frustration in your mother’s eyes when she lost you in the crowd. Over a decade ago, I was overwhelmed with the responsibility and frustration of mothering my strong-willed children. I felt overworked, overtired, and wondered how I would ever survive. And yet God has guided me through every step of this parenting journey, as He is doing for your mother also.

May God refresh your dedicated mother, little Runaway Rebecca, with lots of those precious giggles and time to play with you. May our loving God always corral you with a gentle turnaround when your strong will tempts you to run from His love and protection.

As a safety conscious mama, I want to have a few words with you about how you teach your little ones to get across traffic lanes. Although we live in a low-traveled area, I think you need to pay more attention to how your family gets across the street and how you train your fawn-babies to do that.

When I moved here from California, I remember hearing the clomp-clomp-clomp down my street for the first time. Expecting to see horses on my small town street, I ran to the window and gaped in surprise. There you were with your herd, crossing the road after coming up the ravine trails. Little did I realize how much you own this neighborhood! Since then, I am always amazed when you cross the street in single file. Slowing my car for a deer to cross the road means an inevitable halt as your brood wanders across the street one by one. My Minnesota friends warned me that the fall deer hunting season was the worst for car collisions with deer, understandably because your kind are skittish and on the run.

To your credit, you deer seem to look both ways with that twitchy neck movement that scouts out danger. I really haven’t seen the proverbial “deer in the headlights” look; usually I see jerky, swivel heads as your group crosses in front of my car. Kudos to you for teaching your fawn-babies to look both ways, but why start this procession when cars are coming?! Please give a thought to the size of your parade before scampering across the road, leaving your less-experienced little ones to follow right into oncoming traffic.

One day, heading down the big hill, I saw an animal lying in the middle of the road. The size of a medium dog, the animal appeared to have a long, crooked tail. After realizing that the animal was not going anywhere, I stopped my car and got out to take a look. Here was a sweet, spotted fawn-baby of yours, looking very frail and very young. I thought it was dead, until I approached and noticed the heaving of its chest. Backing off quickly, I got back in my car and thought of whom I could call. Cops? Humane society? Game warden? Then, as I picked up my phone, I saw the little one stretch up onto wobbly scrawny legs and lope off clumsily into the woods, presumably to where you were watching from.

Interesting how the Creator God had the whole situation under control. Perhaps that is how you handle things in the woods, letting your little ones get up on their own under the Creator’s watchful eye. (There is probably a great parenting lesson in there somewhere for me.) It just seemed to me that you were abdicating your motherly duty by leaving him stuck in the middle of the road. Would you please keep your birthing in the woods and far away from the road next time?!

And about my neighbor’s flower boxes . . . Yes, it was hilarious to drive down the street and see you and your kin eating the beautiful flowers right out of her living room bay window boxes, as if they were your personal feeding troughs. But would you please lay off her house decorations? At least start on the stuff in the yard first.

So please, keep your littlest ones out of the street, look both ways before you cross, and go easy on the flower boxes. I will do my best to drive safely and watch out for you.

(Not that you are so little anymore, but I call you that to distinguish you from my Big Ben. You are already a nine year old in fourth grade! Doesn’t seem like that long ago that I encouraged you to try using a straw in your front tooth gap.)

This morning, when you asked your mom Erin what she was doing today, she had to think. As you know, she was not going to a job where she oversees multimillion dollar contracts for a large company or develops programs for the handicapped. She does not have a job performing surgery, teaching high school math, administering city government, or running a small business. These are all notable professions, but not what your mom has chosen to do.

Did you know that your mom has a college degree in education and that she used to teach fourth grade? Can you imagine having your mom as a school teacher this year?! Instead, her teaching career is on hold; she and your dad dedicated her efforts to working for your family at home and in the community. Their budget might pass on items other families find essential, like the latest electronics or a vacation home. (Your sister thinks she is the only seventh grader without a cell phone!) Instead, your family focuses on time spent together, like “organized dinners” as you named your home-cooked evening meals.

Remember this year’s school book fair, mile run, vision & hearing screening, school pictures, fall party, and the field trip to the Science Museum? Your mom was involved in all of those; the school secretary even counted on her to recruit other parental help. Well, your mom would not have been available if she was working elsewhere. The fun that you and your friends enjoyed with your mom at those events would never have happened.

Here is a list of what your mom did today, although she is so humble that I had to force her to list it all:
Bank chores – pay bills, balance checkbook, send emails
Work out – staying healthy is on her daily list
United Way “Packing for the Weekend” food program – your mom develops menus and orders food for 86 families to feed 233 kids from our town 3 meals per day, plus snacks and desserts each weekend. She also coordinates this for two other towns. On Thursdays, she spends hours organizing the food, packing bread/milk vouchers, and setting up backpacks for other volunteers to pack the food. (She says you and your sister are great helpers!)
The usual housework – pack lunches, clean kitchen, load dishes (I hear you are a good dishwasher emptier!), vacuum, laundry (only one load today)
Breakfast for all of you, drove your sister to middle school, got you to the bus
Dinner of taco pie and salad
Drove for the two basketball carpools she set up
Ran errands – post office, library, gas
Read a book for 30 minutes – also on her daily list to keep her mind healthy
Plan to welcome the new neighbors with treats, a card, and introductions

That list does not mention the activities your mom plans ahead for, like the Sunday school teaching and classroom volunteering. She even offered me a ride to pick up my car when I needed help today. Your mom is available and helpful in the neighborhood, and many of us appreciate that.

Ben, keep asking good questions like that, and I hope and pray that you can recognize and appreciate all the incredible things your mom does for you, your family, our neighborhood, and our community. She is quite the professional mom and thanks, Ben, for sharing her with us!

God’s grace to you, Ben, and to your Mom Erin.

P.S. My kids tease me that I will buy anything from you when you sell for fundraisers because you are so adorable! Yes, that is true, but that will have to stop when you start selling things like cars, computers, stocks, or whatever when you grow up. I might vote for you, though.